


Broken Crown

by sweaterwearinlesbian



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, My poor babies, canon main character death, so i think they did the olde fuck & die, sorry babs but this fits in the canon, wah wah, we don't know what they did the night before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 10:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaterwearinlesbian/pseuds/sweaterwearinlesbian
Summary: The night before their untimely deaths, Mello and Matt learn to care for each other for the first time.





	Broken Crown

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if they're in character really but I feel like this could happen. Enjoy :)

Mello looked out into the night, window open and rain pattering onto their shit carpet. Matt was hopefully sound asleep, dreaming of them living. Mello had accepted his fate; he'd accepted it the moment that he pressed that button to blow up his headquarters. He didn't want to live; he didn't deserve Matt’s rescue.

Mello didn't deserve Matt in general. Matt was loyal to a fault, kind (or as kind as he could be), and most importantly, Matt was smart. Matt knew that tomorrow they were both going to die. Matt knew that after tomorrow he would no longer play Zelda, or laugh at Mello as he failed at Mario Kart, or do anything ever again.

Mello was going to hell.

He had willingly led the only person he cared about to his death. He had willingly committed six of the seven deadly sins, and now he was committing sloth to seal his fate. Lazing about instead of working, attempting to save the life of his only friend left in the world. Near popped into his mind, but Mello shook the albino bastard out. Near was not his friend. Near was his enemy, his adversary, his mortal enemy. Matt was his friend. Matt had been with him since the beginning since his parents died. He was the first person Mello saw at Wammy’s and he would be the first person Mello saw as he died.

Matt loved him.

Mello noticed it when they moved to LA. It was in how he did the laundry when Mello was healing, how he smiled when Mello was crass, how he appraised him in leather. It was everywhere, and Mello didn’t know how to deal with it. He knew that he cared about Matt, but was it enough to match Matt’s flame? Was it enough to merely love from a distance? The night before their operation, here Mello sat, contemplating their mutual destruction without ever ensuring that Matt knew how he felt. A tear trickled out of Mello’s working eye and he furiously scrubbed it away. 

Mello was not weak. 

Matt knew this the moment he saw the strange boy appear at the House. He knew it when he offered to show him around and Mello flipped him off and babbled angrily in some Slavic language. Matt knew Mello was strong when he didn’t cry when L died. He rampaged, throwing things, yelling at Matt, breaking down in his own way. He loved Mello. Matt hoped, furtively, and without hope, that Mello knew that he was loved before he died. He didn’t sleep that night. He lay in their shared bed and hoped beyond hope that Mello would make it. Matt couldn’t live in a world where Mello wasn’t there to ground him; Mello could live without him. He proved that all those weeks he hid out with the mafia, leaving Matt alone in their shithole of an apartment. Matt hated Mello for that, but he supposed it kept them both safe. 

Mello was angry.

Matt could tell when he finally came to bed. His nostrils were flared and his body was tense. Matt sat up, goggles making the dark room feel underwater. Mello glared at him. “You should be sleeping. I don’t want you to fall asleep at the wheel and fuck up my whole plan.” Matt laughed and grabbed a fresh cigarette from the pack on the floor. He lit it and Mello didn’t even wrinkle his nose. “Those things will kill you.” Matt knew, then, that they were both aware one or both of them weren’t making it out. 

“You’re going to kill me.” 

That got him; Mello had a brief look of shock cross his face before he shut it down. Damn L and his training to make the successors blocks of stone. It worked too well on Near and just enough on Mello. If Matt truly was going to die, what was the harm in trying to let Mello know how he felt? “You don’t get it, do you, Mel? I would follow you anywhere; I would walk into hell with a smile if you wanted to kill the devil himself. I would track Near down and torture him if it meant I could see you smile. I would steal the sun, I would go to the moon, I would stalk that bastard Light if it made you feel as strong as you are. You know why I would do that?” Here Matt paused, hoping to let Mello answer it. Mello didn’t so Matt pressed on, heart in his throat. 

“It’s because, ever since you beat me up for wanting to help you, I’ve been in love with the hurricane that is Mihael Keehl.” 

For a second, they just stared at each other; Mello looked at Matt, in his ratty Mario pajama pants and a baggy shirt, and Matt waited for the hell that was to come. Mello was wearing his best rosary after all. Wouldn’t want God to get the wrong idea right? Then something happened; Mello all but threw himself forward, surprising both Matt and himself. 

Mello let his subconscious take over and slammed his lips on to Matt’s. 

Maybe it was wrong to get straight to fucking after such a sweet confession, but Mello had never been one to take the right path. He had played the perfect Catholic card for too long and threw all abandon to the wind. Vaguely, Mello realized that Matt was a good kisser, strong and firm, just like in everything he did. His hands were boney and warm on the small of Mello’s back, and Mello didn’t remember why they hadn’t started this earlier. Because now they were both going to die, weren’t they? 

Mello kissed him like he needed the air from Matt’s lungs. 

He was a furious force that Matt could never hope to keep up with and secretly didn’t want to. He let Mello control everything and before he knew it, they were pulling away for air. Their kiss felt timeless like it hadn’t taken three minutes for them to be gasping, blushing messes. Mello pushed his hair out his face and grinned like a madman. “Why haven’t we done that before?” Matt shrugged, helpless in the face of the broken beauty that was Mello. It was like Mello wasn’t even aware of the control he held over Matt, even though Matt had explicitly detailed it. 

Mello tugged at the hem of Matt’s t-shirt, eyelashes fluttering like a girl in the movies. 

“Why don’t we get rid of this and get to the real fun, huh?” Matt nodded, once again wordless, all witty remarks dying in his throat as he saw Mello’s lithe body sitting on top of his. The squeak of leather was a little bit off-putting but that quickly changed when Mello was marking up the expanse of Matt’s chest. He littered it with bruises and intensified with every noise Matt made. The harmony of the two of them together was something that Matt would never forget for the rest of his life. 

When Matt died, bullets neverending in their pursuit of his flesh, he was remembering the whispered “I love you too” after Mello thought he was asleep. 

When Mello died he was screaming and screaming for Matt to save him from this fire too.

**Author's Note:**

> And the murder babies die. Wah wah, sorry that it's canon compliant. I got writer's block on my longer fic "Hard Times" so I wrote this to compensate. 
> 
> follow me on tumblr? main is @my-thunderstruck-world and my DN sideblog is @my-thunderstruck-dn-obsession  
> sorry for the self-plug!!


End file.
